


unexpected

by thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emperor Kylo Ren, F/M, I'm Sorry, Omega Rey, PWP with minimal plot, this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/pseuds/thewayofthetrashcompactor
Summary: For many reasons, Rey isn't the typical tribute given to Kylo Ren as emperor. He's perfectly ready to be rid of her, but she's not sure she agrees.





	unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reyofdarkness (mitslits)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/gifts).



> This was a last-minute fill because my main fic ended up with way more angst than necessary, and I needed a change of pace. So here we are! Thank you so much to ali/mitslits/reyofdarkness for your very inspiring request. You gave fantastic prompts, and I know I didn't do them all full justice here, but I hope you enjoy! So glad you're part of the exchange <3

Kylo Ren watches from his throne as the Hutts’ newest gift is dragged before him. The Hutts have never been paragons of taste or restraint, but this may actually be a new low for them. They've never really forgiven him for his heritage, though he's proved time and again his control over their territories, and the gift of a human slave, when his distaste for the practice is well known, is as much insult as tribute. The messenger grins at him, and Kylo isn't sure whether the idiot is aware of the meaning of his masters’ gift, or if he genuinely thinks hauling a clearly miserable slave in front of the emperor is likely to gain him favor. 

“Omega!” the messenger declares proudly, gesturing to the struggling girl. She's dressed in a similar outfit to the one his own mother had once been forced into, but just dissimilar enough for denial. She's beautiful, of course, with dark hair and golden skin flushed from fighting for herself, and even from a distance he can pick up hints of her sweet scent. “Perfect for an Alpha emperor, yes?”

Kylo only glares, and the messenger falters. 

“Get _off_ of me!” the slave screeches, gripping the chain around her neck and swinging her legs around at one of her captors, who has a tight grip on her upper arm. He's impressed, for as skinny as she is, she lands a hit with a satisfying thud into the thug’s stomach. 

“Apologies, my lord,” the other handler pants. “She wasn't so much trouble ‘til we got her in here.” He grunts as the girl attempts to kick him in his knees and twists her arm. She yelps and turns to glare at him. 

“ _I said_ let go,” she tells him in words that echo with the Force. Kylo blinks. Not only is it a shock that she had the Force, quite powerfully it seems, but her use of it resonated within him in a way he doesn't understand, almost as if she'd pulled from him to use it. 

Without knowing why, the guard lets go of her, dazed. The girl clearly didn't expect her success and stands still long enough for the other guard uses his grip on her other arm to slam her to the floor. 

“Stop,” Kylo orders, standing from his throne and raising a hand to shove the guards back from the slave. They fly across the floor and slam against the opposite wall, forcing his own soldiers to jump out of the way. He pauses. That was more force than he'd meant to use. It'd felt different from his side too, like the girl reflected his own power back to him stronger. 

The entire court stares at him. He lowers his hand, still pondering what could have caused this kind of reaction between him and this strange girl. All at once, he's done with being in the public eye for the day. 

“Tell your masters I appreciate their offering,” he orders the messenger, then turns to the girl. “Come.” He steps down from the dias and gestures for her to follow him. She glances back at her guards, still crumpled at the edge of the room, and apparently decides to listen. He sweeps from the room with her behind him. 

His rooms are a level below his audience chamber, and they arrive there quickly. The girl keeps up with him with little trouble, which he appreciates. He unlocks the door with the Force, and bows her sarcastically in. He stalks over to his desk, already mentally preparing a proper response to the Hutts. Besides his typical letter, he thinks an small adjustment in trade might be in order. Not enough to create a problem, something that could be a coincidence, but makes a point. He doesn't even notice that the girl's still following him until he sits down and notices she's hanging behind him, frowning. 

“You can sit anywhere,” he mutters, waving absently at his room. 

Instead, she stays standing. He shrugs and pulls out a datapad. She can do what she wants as far as he's concerned. 

“What do you want me for?” she demands, though her voice wavers slightly. 

“I don't,” he says flatly. 

She frowns. “Then what are you going to do with me?” 

He doesn't look up from his desk. “You'll stay in my rooms for a week or two until the court forgets about you, or assume that I've tired of you. At which point, a discreet shuttle will take you with whatever supplies you require to a world of your choosing, preferably one far away from here. With any luck, we never see each other again.” He ignores the pang of disappointment the thought sends through him. She's nobody, a scavenger with the good luck to be born with the Force and the bad luck to be picked up by the Hutts. The strange interaction of their powers is no reason for him to make her stay. Neither is the fact that she smells fucking _delicious_. She'd only be another problem for him to deal with, and a stray untrained Force user is the last thing he needs running around, especially one as distracting as she is. 

She walks around him and hops up on his desk. “And that's it? Is that what you do with all the omegas you get given to you?”

He grits his teeth. She smells even better this close, legs swinging next to him. He wonders if the Hutts gave her anything before sending her, something to increase her pheromones or to bring on her heat. He wouldn't put it past them. “Believe it or not, this is not a common occurrence for me.” 

She hums. “Are you sure? You seem awfully prepared.”

“Positive,” he grunts. 

She's blessedly quiet for a moment. He takes deep breaths to try to center himself, but it makes things so much worse. He feels slightly dizzy as he thinks about how easy it would be to slide his hands under her scrap of a skirt and shove her back onto his desk. “What if I don't want to leave?” she says, interrupting his swiftly deteriorating train of thought. 

“What?” He looks up from her knees to her face and finds her smiling at him. 

“What if I don't want to leave?” she repeats. “I could do so much more here than I could anywhere else. The First Order is sure to have the best records in the galaxy, and you can teach me how to do what you did to those guards.” She says this in a matter of fact way, but there's a glint in her eyes. 

For a moment, it sounds like an incredibly tempting offer. Being able to guide someone as strong as she is in the Force… his mind drifts into fantasy again for a moment. An image of her crowned next to him jolts him back to reality. He glares at her, not certain she's not the one responsible for putting the idea in his head. “No,” he says stubbornly. 

“Why not?” she asks hotly. “There's something between us; you felt it too.” He ignores her and turns back to his datapad, knowing better than to deny it. “Or don't you like the idea of teaching someone else?” When he still doesn't answer, she continues. “Are you more used to your gifts fawning over you before you have to send them away?” He rolls his eyes, which she takes as encouragement. “Oh, _emperor_ , thank you so much for your generosity,” she breathes in a dramatic sigh. “How could I _ever_ begin to thank you.” She deepens her voice meaningfully on the last two words. 

As much as he knows she's mocking him, somewhere deep down, it still gets to him, just a bit. He turns his chair to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. Her eyes are sparkling with mirth, and she grins with success at finally getting his attention. “Oh, no, please, don't concern yourself over it. Oh, well, if you insist, I suppose, I wouldn't want you to feel obligated.” He speaks completely deadpan, face blank except for a raised eyebrow at the end. 

She smirks at him. “You're too kind, my lord,” she purrs, and he swallows uncomfortably. “ _Anything_ I could do for you to fully convince you of my gratitude, I'd do it for you.” She flutters her lashes obnoxiously. He nearly rolls his eyes. 

“I couldn't possibly take advantage. It's nothing, my lady, truly.” His voice doesn't change from a monotone. 

“Nothing?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I think you undersell yourself, my lord. It felt so much bigger than that to me.” He chokes, and she gives a victorious grin. 

He glares at her suspiciously. So that's how this is going to go. “If my lady says so, it must be true. Her thanks are effusive indeed, I'm only grateful to have had a hand in them.” He keeps the monotone but drops his voice an octave. He may not have much experience in this, and he doubts that someone who ended up caught but the Hutts does either, but he's watched enough of his courtiers’ tedious games to play at this one. He watches her eyes widen with satisfaction, then her grin does the same. 

She stands from his desk and smoothes the scrap of silk hanging from her waist over her legs. Against his will, his eyes take in her figure in a way he hasn’t had a chance to yet. She’s tall enough for him for their eyes to meet while he’s sitting, and every movement shows her tight muscles. She’s almost painfully skinny, with awkward angles that the standard slave girl outfit doesn’t help soften, and he doesn’t want to imagine where the Hutts had picked her up. She doesn’t move like someone who’s used to showing herself off like this, but her enjoyment in taunting a reaction out of him is more than enticing enough.

“My lord has such capable hands,” she says, propping a hand on her cocked hip. The movement makes her skirt sway to the side, and his eyes flick downward again. “Able to take care of so much. You’re welcome to use them to assist me anytime.”

He clears his throat. “My lady is too generous. I’m gratified to hear that she would be so willing and open for me.”

The girl leans over him with a smile like a shark and braces her hands on the arms of his chair. He can’t avoid the smell of her this close, with them breathing each other’s air. She surrounds him with the warmth of sunlight and a sharpness of metal, underlain with the sweet tang of omega, a combination that calls to him like nothing he’s ever experienced before. “Of course,” she says, and her eyes meet his intently. He all but stops breathing. “My lord’s power is undeniable. I only ask that he share it with me.”

He refuses to pull back, and knows this has become more than just a game. He looks her in the eye, daring her. She takes the challenge, and shoves her lips against his. It’s artless and messy, on both their parts, but they’re too desperate to care. His hand comes up to cup her neck, trapping her against him, and hers threads into his hair. He groans as she pulls on the strands and tips her head to the side to deepen the kiss. His arm snakes around her waist and pulls her down to him. Her knees land on either side of his thighs, so that she’s straddling him, weight settled on his lap. She’s far too light, and he feels the sudden urge to wrap her up away from whatever she’d gone through before coming to him and take care of her the way she deserves. 

Very few coherent thoughts make it through his mind, but one finally catches. He breaks away to catch his breath. “What’s your name?” he demands.

She blinks at him, dazed. “Rey.”

He nods. “Rey. I’m Kylo.” And then he pulls her back to him.

Despite her skimpy outfit, she’s warm against him, and the fabric of his pants feels too tight and heavy, getting in the way of feeling her completely. Her hands drift down to his chest, and he finds the same is true about his tunic. Around her back, he rips off his gloves so at least he can run his hands along her bare skin. Together, his hands span her back, and he lingers over each notch and too-visible rib. She arches under his touch, pressing herself further into him. The crude metal of her outfit is a heavy weight between them, and he decides he wants that gone too. He’s ready to sweep her up and carry her to his bed, but holds himself back. With a great effort, he tugs their mouths apart. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, panting. She looks at him like he’s speaking some long dead language. “You don’t have to stay here, or do this. Wherever you want to go, I can get you there.” She rolls her eyes at him. 

“If I didn’t want to be doing this, I wouldn’t be,” she informs him, and slams her mouth back down on his. 

He can’t even mind the small pain. Still attached to her, he stands, and her legs automatically wrap around his waist. He walks them over to the bed and they collapse onto it. She pushes him onto his back, and he lets her. He settles his hands just below her breasts, against her uncomfortable bodice. He feels along the edges of it, but can’t find a closure. 

“How do you get this off?” he growls.

She leans forward and pulls his hands to her back. “The chain, pull it apart.”

Gratefully, he grabs the metal chain in both hands and rips it away from her. Rey moans in relief. “Thank the Maker.”

He scowls at the red marks the contraption has left on her and smoothes his hands over them, trying to soothe them, before grabbing her waist and lifting her closer so that he can do the same with his mouth. He starts at the base of her right breast, leaving small kisses, then sliding his mouth along her skin. Small scars, older than the marks he’s attending to, are scattered across her chest, and he stops to give attention to those as well. She’s both salty and sweet under his tongue, sweat and heat and her, and he can’t get enough.

While he’s focused on one side, her hand comes up and cups her other breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers. Her chest heaves under him now, and her other hand in his hair keeps him pressed to her. He lets his hands drift down to her hips, then pulls away from her breast to quickly snap the chains on either side of her skirt. He rubs the marks there too, and she lifts her hips to encourage him to pull the last of her clothing away. He does, and flips her onto her back so he can better appreciate her. 

She’s like nothing he’s ever seen, flushed and panting and gorgeous on his sheets. Just the image of her would be enough to make him lose his mind, but then with every other sensation on top of that, he has no hope. The sound of her short breaths and his sheets shifting and she fidgets, the smell of her arousal over her already heady natural scent, the touch of her heel on his waist as she pull him back to her. He eagerly follows. He’s about to set his mouth to her again but she stops his with a hand on his chest.

“You’re overdressed,” she tells him, and he has to agree. He impatiently tears his clothes off, ripping more than a few seams in the process. He briefly ends up stuck with his shirt over his head and his pants around his ankles and growls in frustration before freeing himself. Rey’s still giggling when he falls over her again.

He claims her lips again, soaking himself in the feel of them bare to each other at last. He’s sensitive to every dip and curve of her body against his and wants to sear the memory of each of him into his mind. He braces himself over her, lips still drinking from hers desperately, and lets his hands map out her body, starting from the angles of her shoulders, then the swell of her breasts, the stretch of her skin over her ribs and stomach, finally lingering at the point of her hips. His thumbs follow the lines below them, moving slowly inward. She arches into his touch, encouraging him. 

With one hand holding her hips in place, the other slips between her thighs and explores the folds he finds there. She gasps and rolls her hips under his touch, and he grins. He spreads her, using his body to keep her knees further apart so he can delve deeper. He finds the center of her wet and swollen, and his own hips buck in response. He’s been hard practically since she sat on him, and at this point it’s nearing painful. He doesn’t want to this to end though, so he’s determined to drag it out as long as possible. Rey, however, has other ideas.

She reaches down and grabs his wrist, directing his fingers to where she wants them. She’s apparently done with his teasing, and presses his two fingers inside of her.

They both groan at once, Rey’s body arcing off the bed, forcing him deeper into her. “Yes, Kylo, please,” she pants. He collapses over her, burying his nose in her neck. He plunges his fingers in and out of her, worried at first he’ll hurt her, but her pants of encouragement in his ear convince him otherwise. Her hand is still holding his wrist, and she directs his thumb to her clit. It only takes a few moments of this before she’s clenching impossibly tighter around him, crying out into her ear.

He pants, barely able to catch his breath, her scent clinging to the back of his throat. She isn’t in heat yet, but she will be soon. He can’t think of anything else at the moment except being inside her, and luckily, Rey is in agreement. Her hand is on his hip, nails digging in. 

“Kylo, _now_.”

He rips himself away from her and flips her onto her front, moving her body like it weighs nothing. He pulls her hips back to him and lines himself up. Rey’s chanting a string of yeses under her breath as he presses into her. He goes slowly, though his instincts scream at him to take her, knot her. Watching himself as he sinks into her heat, he can’t help but think that this is too much, she can’t possibly take him, but then she bucks back against him and he chokes on his own tongue. 

“ _Rey,_ ” he gasps, vision blurring at the edges. She echoes his cry with a broken one of her own. 

She starts their rhythm, rolling her hips against him, each movement punctuated with her gasps and moans. When his mind is no longer completely blank, he meets her, falling into her frantic pace. His hands don’t stay on her hips for long. They fall down to her breasts first, finding what noises he can wring from her when he tugs her nipples, groaning himself when her muscles clench around him. He strokes between her legs as the pressure inside him builds to near the critical point. She writhes under him and he bends over her, slick chest pressed against her back, forehead against her shoulder. His knot begins to swell as he reaches his end, and his strokes become shallower, grinding into her. 

Rey comes first, tightening around him so hard he sees stars. It’s enough to send him hurtling over the edge soon after, filling her more than completely. He wants desperately and instinctively to dig his teeth into the curve of her neck but stops himself, clenching his mouth closed instead. He presses the hand at her clit into her stomach, and he thinks he can feel himself inside of her. His come leaks out around his knot, slipping out of her, and Rey groans, tossing her head back.

They fall to the bed as one, hot breaths panting over sweat-slicked skin. Neither of them have the presence of mind for conversation yet. Rey curls into him, threading her fingers through his on his hand over her chest. He wraps his leg over hers, keeping her in place. She hums contentedly, eyes falling closed. His last thought before he joins her is that there’s no way he can send her away now.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! I appreciate every comment very much. <3


End file.
